Stricken
by MiLady Oakenshield
Summary: After an orc attack leaves one of the company gravely injured, the healing hands of a fiery-haired elf who once imprisoned him in Mirkwood's cells might just be his only saving grace. Durin feels. No slash.
1. Chapter I

AN – I don't know how many people saw it, but a sneak preview clip from The Desolation of Smaug reveals some serious Kili WHUMPAGE. And when I saw it, it screamed for my muse to do something about it. Obviously I'm expanding on it; though the actual scene, I'm sure, will be something similar – by Mahal, I hope Kili isn't hurt TOO badly.

Character(s) – Kili, Tauriel, Fili, Thorin, Bilbo, Bard, Legolas

Warning(s): Wounded!Kili, water-logged!Fili, papa-bear!Thorin

**Stricken  
**Written by milady oakenshield

.

Sopping wet, hungry and with aching bodies in much need of care, the company was glad when they had become guests upon Bard the Bowman's boat; it was small, but not small enough that they couldn't fit on board.

Bilbo could rest at ease knowing the whole of Mirkwood was behind them, and the empty barrels being carried through Laketown's channels, as well as the encounter with the orcs – seriously, he still hated them and Kili's voice teasing him about them, trying to scare him, that voice playing over and over again in the back of his head didn't help to settle his stomach.

Oh, how he wished he was back home in his warm bed, or seated in front of fire, or even outside in his garden just after sunset – a pipe supported by his right hand, the long bit clenched between his teeth, and the smoke of good ol' pipe-weed circling his head like a wreath. If Gandalf hadn't come along and interrupted his serenity, no doubt Bilbo would be sitting down to a nice dinner by now, maybe enjoying a glass of wine.

Bilbo's father stems from the well-to-do, very conventional Baggins family, but his mother came from the Tooks, completely opposite of anything a hobbit would deem 'common' or 'normal'; a wealthy, eccentric – though that was a bit of an understatement – infamous for their very unhobbitlike tendencies. As a child, Bilbo liked nothing better than to stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud through the kitchen. Now in his older days, he preferred to stay at home and live a quiet life.

And now here he was, sitting against the edge of some boat, his arms wrapped around himself, shivering from the cold water soaking through his clothing.

The company had since lapsed into a silence that Bilbo was uncomfortable with; he was so used to chatter and babble of thirteen dwarrows that the silence was nerve wracking to him.

Pulling his lips together to keep his chattering teeth to a minimum, the young hobbit glanced around the boat at his other thirteen companions – fourteen, if he counted Bard, though he wasn't too sure if he was supposed to be feeling grateful towards their savior. The shifting of his eyes came to a sudden, dead stop when he looked at the youngest dwarf. He looked a little worse for wear, actually, now that the hobbit had a chance to look him over from head to toe.

Once Bilbo looked down Kili's leg, he saw an angry looking wound marring the flesh of the archer's thigh, making some sort of inhuman noise in his throat, shifting his brown eyes from the injury, to Kili's face.

There was a sudden hitch in Kili's breathing, as if he was but a young lad and his mother had caught him with his hand reaching for cookies that weren't yet cooled. "It's nothing," he protested, and Fili, who had since been focusing his attention elsewhere, had now looked at his brother, "Just a scratch."

Bilbo shook his head; he had seen far too many injuries suffered amongst the company to notice the difference between "_just a scratch_" and, well, something else. "That is not just a scratch!" The sudden raise in his voice made Kili very nervous, "That is an orc wound!"

Kili shifted uncontrollably; he tugged at the rip in his damp trousers, and sucked down on his bottom lip, swallowing through the throbbing pain in his thigh.

The hobbit folded his hands together, looking away from the sheepish dwarf. "Goblins, orcs, warg – none of that was in the contract," unfurling his hands as he stood, spouting, "I should never have left Bag End – that was my first mistake," his arms crossed over his chest, "We, we have an old saying in the Shine, we learn it from birth; You never venture east."

Bard, who had since been silent, was silent no longer.

"So, tell me, Master Baggins," his raspy voice called out, turning heads, "why did you venture East?"

_I have been wondering that for months now_, was his first thought, but what came out of his mouth was actually, "They needed me," followed by a not-so-cleverly-concealed chortle from Thorin and a very obvious smirk playing on Bard's lips.

At last, Bilbo sighs heavily.

He thinks back to the night just before leaving the Shire, and how his Baggins side would like nothing better than to sit in the comforts of his home; "_When did doilies, and your mother's dishes become so important to you?_" the wizard had asked him, and perhaps he favored things like that in recent years because that's what he should do as a Baggins.

His back is to the others, so he doesn't notice when Kili shifts against his brother. He only looks over once. The boat had suffered an eerie silence and Bilbo almost – _almost_ – wishes he could hear the brothers' laughter again. He watches them in silence, but his eyes are mostly on the younger, whose face appears drawn and pale. Bilbo tells himself it's the damp chill in the air. But shortly after he resigned himself to this thought, Kili's body gives an involuntary shutter, and Fili is lifting his head with eyes pointed at his young brother, his brows elevated on his forehead.

Fili's right arm lifts and curls around Kili's shoulders. He drags the younger heir closer to him, allowing for a transfer of whatever body heat he can offer his brother. Kili tries to force a smile; he is no more warmer now than he was earlier, but he smiles for his brother so Fili could at least see his efforts were not in vain.

Kili closes his eyes for a moment. His breathing comes in choppy against his brother's neck, and Fili is telling himself it's because his brother is cold so he makes every endeavor to rub some misplaced warm back into his baby brother's body. His hand gives very gentle ministrations on Kili's arm and then the younger shakes again, and this time fists a hand to his mouth to conceal a heavy cough.

He glanced down at his leg again, trying hard to conceal an undulating groan at the sight of it, before his head rolled back against his brother's shoulder. _This is going to ruin my whole damn day…_

-(*)-

_At length, the raft of barrels – which ended up being more than what had left Mirkwood – came into sights of the river bank, and of the boats rowed out from the piles of the town. Raised voices had halted at least one of these boats, and then ropes were cast out and oars were pulled, and soon enough the raft was drawn out of the current. _

_When at last the barrels were towed away to a high shoulder of rock, and after the men had would fill up some of these barrels while others would be carted away, and only after that when the men left the remaining barrels afloat while they went to feast in Lake-town, did one particular Bilbo Baggins unlatch himself from his wooden barrel. _

_A collective of groans came in strides in many different directions around him. From one barrel tumbled a most unhappy dwarf; his hair tangled with wet straw, his body sore – marred with a small barrage of bruises – and so ruffed up that he couldn't bring himself to stumble through the shallow waters before collapsing to his knees and just resigning himself to the rocks as smokey blue eyes stared intently._

_Bilbo rushed over, then stared down at the company leader, "Well, are you alive or are you dead?" he asked curtly, without really meaning to come out as it sounded, and he would have smirked at the not-so-polite hand gesture answered to him had it not been for pleading cries of _Help! _coming from those still trapped within their barrels._

_The hobbit gripped Thorin's hand and tugged the king-under-the-mountain to his feet – surprisingly having a bit more strength on the dwarf but considering the man's water-logged state and growing lack of energy; it wasn't _too_ shocking, actually._

_Together, Thorin and Bilbo weeded their way through the remaining barrels. They unpacked each of these barrels, leaving several dwarrows muttering and moaning as they lay on the shore all soaked and bruised and cramped. Brothers Dwalin and Balin said nothing, just laid there collecting their strength, and they were not asked to help. Bifur and Bofur seemed perfectly fine, but only Bofur offered his services. Fili and Kili, however, did not fare as well._

_Bofur had spotted them; one brother face up, eyes to the heavens, and the other face down with a veil of hair covering his head. It was the whimpering that spurred everyone able to keep good footing to rush to their aid. And it was Thorin, despite the sore and stiffness in his body, who dropped to his knees and checked them both._

_The moment he had Fili turned over onto his back, the blonde coughed up a heavy gurgle of water from his lungs before being turned onto his side, a gentle hand rubbing somewhere between his shoulder blades. _

"_I hope I never smell the smell of apples again!" he cried, just as a strong pair of arms – his own uncle, he guessed, by the thickness of the muscles and the familiarity to them – had pulled him in close, then added, "My tub was full of it. I could eat anything in the world right now, for hours on end- except an apple." And Thorin was chuckling quietly to himself, because that's the majority of what his sister would consume the length of her pregnancy with his eldest nephew._

_Kili gulped in the humid air then coughed up water from his lungs but once his body had expelled all the foreign river water, he still lay on his back unable to move; or, unwilling to move. But they needed to move. All of them. And so once the brothers were checked of their bruises and small scrapes, Thorin motioned for them to start heading down the river bank._

_Fili meant to follow closely behind his uncle; despite offers of support, he denied them. But only a few steps away from the bank, a pained cry halted his steps. He shifted a look over his shoulder and spotted his brother seemingly having the most difficult time of walking on his own two feet. Kili had faltered to one knee as if in prayer, clutching at his leg. Fili was at his brother's side instantly, forcing the rest of the company to stop with his pleas. His brother's face ghosted white the minute Kili was dragged to his feet; a pain like no other, a white-hot searing pain, throbbed through the entire length of his leg, and most of his right side._

_Fili tossed an arm over his shoulder and half-assisted, half-dragged his brother along. Kili had sucked in a heavy breath. Every time he moved side-by-side with his brother, there was a painful jarring in his leg but despite his need to cry out, the younger bit his tongue and pushed through his pain._

"_Well, well – " came the voice, and everyone looked up to see a man, a human man, standing at the stern of his boat, with arms crossed tightly over his chest, " – I do not believe the wood-elves have ever sent us dwarves in their barrels before."_

-(*)-

Lake-town, as it was called, in the realm of the Kingdom of Dale, is a town constructed entirely of wood and stood upon wooden pillars sunk deep into the bed of Long Lake. The town was situated on the west side of the lake, north of the mountain of the Forest Rover in a calm bay that was formed by the shelter of a rock. A long wooden bridge connects the town to land, ending in a building, with guards watching over the entrance. The edge of town was occupied with quays and, again, ramps, which descended into water.

It is one of these ramps which saw to the boat of fifteen companions; at the wheel, Bard the bowman greeted the deckhands with a smile before tossing down to them a rope, which was quickly tied off and secured around a thick wooden post.

Two of these deckhands then rushed forth with a ramp to perch between the edge of the boat and the deck in which they stood. Only then did one of them take notice of the company and with a small bemused smile, turn a gaze upon Bard. "And where did you dig this lot up?" His eyes shifted, indicating the company of dwarrows – and one hobbit – as those sitting had slowly scrambled to their feet, and those already standing offered a hand.

Bard's mouth set in a tight grin as one by one, then answered, truthfully, "The banks of the river downstream from Mirkwood forest where we trade with the wood-elves," and as he spoke, he hardly missed the snort of a response from the company leader.

"And who might you be?" asked the same deckhand, whose question was now directed at Thorin, and the would-be king merely lifted his head up, noticing the raise in brow from the deckhand.

"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the mountain," he answered in all honesty, his voice forcibly loud despite the soreness plaguing his throat, and the bruising along his face, "And if at all possible, I wish to see the Master of your town."

The two deckhands who had yet to say anything shared a look between them; obviously, they have heard of stories coming out of Erebor, and from their own kin, but had not yet been graced with the presence of the king. After the dragon Smaug took the Lonely Mountain, many, including Thorin, had thought to have perished. No one had so much as heard of peep of him since that day.

And once the company had all gathered on the deck, and the ramp to the boat had been removed and cast aside, the older deckhand swept a look at the dwarf who would proclaim himself prince, only to shift his eyes around at the others to take in their disheveled looks. "And these companions with you," he pointed towards the hobbit, then to Fili, and then to Kili, who, supported by his brother's strong arms, lifted his head to look upon the deckhand, "who might they be?"

"Fili and Kili are sons of my father's daughter," answered Thorin, "and Mr. Baggins has traveled with us out of the West." He glanced briefly to the others, who appeared silenced, then gazed back at the deckhand who had addressed him. "The rest are part of my company as well. We travel from the Blue Mountains. We wish to speak with your master."

The deckhand gave a light head shake. "He is at feast."

Fili opened his mouth to interject, when Bard had stepped forth. "These dwarves – " he said 'dwarves' because he did not know the proper plural form for them, " – are obviously famished and weary. They had sick and injured comrades with them." Clearly he had not forgotten Kili, who, by the looks of it, had gotten worse since he picked them up at the river. "Regardless of where the Master is or what he is doing, we need to speak with him."

"Follow me then."

Bard followed closely behind the elder deckhand, and the company behind him.

The Lake-town was occupied by descendants of the survivors of the former kingdom of Dale, much like Bard, whose ancestor was its last lord. However as the years passed, Smaug was forgotten and now only existed in stories; many thought him to be dead, or have since moved on from the fallen kingdom of Erebor.

Once they had gotten through the market-place, and came upon a large great hall shone with many lights and voices seeping out from inside, then heavy doors creaked open all at once, alerted the occupants inside and some inside even leapt to their feet with smiles once they saw Bard.

At the head of a long table, the Master stepped down from his seat and walked his way around the others until coming to stop in front of the bowman. "It is good to see you once again, Bard," only then when the pair exchanged hugs, and the Master stepped back, did his eyes notice the fourteen in Bard's wake. "And who are these comrades who come into my halls?"

Just as Thorin opened his mouth to speak, and Bard might have introduced his guest himself, there came a voice from the table, and all in the same group had turned their heads to look.

A tall, lanky stranger stood, and another beside him, then the one pushed back his hood, revealing his fair face, "These are prisoners of our king," he said.

The elf standing beside him removed the hood obscuring his face, but it was not a _he_ who looked upon the dwarrows; something inside Kili's chest seized, for he recognized the elf. Whether it was the shock of seeing her again, or he had succumbed to his blood loss, his body gave out and slacked at his brother's side.

**I think that towards the end of this, my writing starting bleeding in with the written scene in the book about the company arriving in Lake-town, so many of the wording may seem familiar to you. If that's the case, then I will admit to having the book opened while I finished this. I also consulted Tolkien Gateway as well.**

_Please! _**Read and review; my muse FEEDS on reviews. And perhaps I may even continue this. I will leave it open just in case. And I would love to pass out cookies and honey-cakes to everyone who does review.**

**-milady oakenshield**

(This is entirely unbetaed.)


	2. Chapter II

A/N – Thank you for the reviews! The more I get, the more my muse is inclined to continue writing and who knows, this story may very well continue on until the BOFA. Only your reviews will tell… so continue praising away!

_OH!_ Before I forget… you can follow me on Twitter - HybridArcher (It was Vulcanlovechild, but I wanted a new one) and my tumblr is miladyoakenshield

On with chapter two!

**Stricken  
**Chapter II

* * *

"_Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal." _–Thomas More

* * *

_The brothers stood at an impasse; Kili's arrow had missed the target completely and now protruded from a tree branch just out of their reach – even Fili, who, at this point in their lives, stood taller than his younger brother, could not extend his hand to grasp it. _

_So they stared at it for the longest time, passing thoughts by in silence. Each wondered how they would dislodge it without running to Uncle Thorin and having to explain to him what had happened._

_And just when those thoughts had mulled and churned over in their brains another multitude of times, Kili sprang forward with enough spunk in his step to finally startle his brother out of his own thoughts._

_Startled, Fili blinked hard. "What are you doing? No!" His hand feebly grasped his brother's tunic, but fingernails barely scraped the fabric before Kili already had one foot on a branch. "Don't you dare. We'll tell uncle and he'll bring a ladder to – "_

" – _to what, Fili?" the younger finished, then glanced back at his brother, eyes slightly widened in curious questioning. "You heard him earlier; he's busy. And quite frankly, I don't feel like getting yelled at for disturbing him over something as stupid as an arrow stuck in a tree branch. I can take care of it."_

"_He'll yell at you regardless if you fall out of that thing!"_

"_This is why I won't fall." And then he continued climbing, as if he hadn't paused at all._

_Fili shook his head. "Then let me go," he said, reasoning, "I'm taller than you so I have a longer reach to my arm. Kili! Damn you!" He sighed, completely frustrated, as he watched his brother continue to climb the tree, completely heedless of his ominous tone._

_His brother's words fell on deaf ears. Kili was not going to come back down, not until he got what he came for. It was his fault the arrow was in the tree branch anyway; it wasn't like him to let someone else clean up his messes, not if he could help it._

_He was well aware of Fili watching him, almost gasping as he climbed just a bit higher, practically feeling those heavy smokey blues staring at him. He'd hate to admit to himself, but a stare from those eyes was almost just as bad as Thorin's booming voice whenever he got scolded – which happened almost regularly. Kili couldn't seem to go more than a few hours – at least it felt like that to his brother and certainly his mum – without getting in some sort of trouble._

This is ridiculous_, Fili told himself. He could just see how this would pan out, too. And just the thought of having to explain everything to his uncle and mum was enough. Heaving a great, pained sigh, the blonde had made up his mind. _

"_Kee," he called out, reaching for the nearest branch he could get his hands on, and then lifting his foot onto the first step, "I'm coming up." But then his brother's hand halted his movements, and Fili pinched his brows together._

_Kili was shaking his head. "No! I can get it."_

"_And if you fall, Thorin will tan _my_ hide," Fili said, trying to put reason into his brother's thick skull. His brother always did act before thinking things out, sometimes heedless of the consequences, and always if he gained to get something out of it or if knew it was for a reason he logiced in his head._

"_Is that what you're worried about?" Kili arched a brow, "Uncle Thorin tanning your hide?"_

"_He will… and then he'll tan yours just for good measure. Get your arse down! I really don't want to have to come get you."_

"_Then don't," Kili quipped, his tone just as flat as Thorin's could get. "I never asked you to follow me up here; you just started climbing. I'll be fine."_

_But Fili didn't move and the brothers just stared each other down. This was already annoying Kili; the more time he spent having this staring contest with Fili, the less time he was spending retrieving his arrow. Sighing frustratedly, he started climbing again, and blocked out the sound of his brother's voice entirely._

_He stepped on another branch, and then another, until he could see his arrow in plain sight. Kili stopped there and used another branch to grip onto as he reached for the arrow. But it was just shy of his grasp. His tongue fell sideways from closed lips. His right leg lifted and planted firmly on another branch. Kili stepped up just a little to give himself more leverage. Now the arrow was within his grasp, and he could fell the feathers brushing through his fingers. _

_He scarcely heard his brother's gasping cries. When he had the arrow in his grasp and plucked it from the branch and proclaimed, "Got it!", the tree branch he was leaning on had snapped. Fili's name was forcefully yanked from his throat as Kili tumbled to the ground._

_Fili leapt from the low point in the tree and scrambled to his brother's side, scraping up his right knee as he skidded across the ground. "Kee!" But his brother was not moving, and the sudden hitch in Fili's chest rattled his ribcage. He called for his brother once more but there was silence. Fili rolled Kili onto his back. "Kili? Kili?"_

-(*)-

"Kili?"

There was a voice, to be sure, but in the young dwarf prince's state, the voice was so muted and so distorted that he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

And then there was a hand on his forehead, and fingers brushing through his hair. "Kili?" the voice called for him again.

"Your brother has lost quite a bit of blood," the physician spoke, quietly, "And I fear infection has already set in. His body is hot with fever, consequently as a result of his injury and prolonged exposure to the elements."

There was a steady hitch in his breathing as he exhaled, but Fili managed to steel his expression. His hand continued to smooth gently over Kili's burning forehead before resting on the slowly moving chest. "His heart is still strong. I know he will live. He – He has to." He continues to keep his face tight, as not to show what he was feeling. "Our mother will never forgive me if I sit by my uncle's side in Erebor and Kili is not sitting with me."

The physician betrayed no sigh, "I have done what I can for him," he said in honest, then left them with a low bow.

It was then when young Kili started to stir. Fili looked to him with concern and although Kili's body moved, he did not open his eyes. But his lips parted some and he started mumbling something so incoherent that Fili was forced to draw his ear close to Kili's face in order to hear. Even then, his brother's words were garbled up something fierce.

It was then when they were joined by another, but it was not Thorin, or Bard, or even the dwarrows own healer Oin; Fili had lifted his head to take a gander, and to his utter surprise saw the female elf called Tauriel now sitting at his brother's bedside.

"I had to see him," she said softly, never once meeting the gaze of the curious and perplexed older brother with his left eyebrow slightly raised.

"Why? What consequence is it of yours?" His voice did have a bite to it. Despite Tauriel being kind to them during their stay in the cells, he couldn't say he was pleased to see her. "Haven't you done enough damage for one day?"

Tauriel shifted her eyes. "Have I really been so cruel to you that you would forsake me now? Need I remind you that it was _your_ company who trespassed through _our_ home?"

Fili scoffed, and Tauriel looked back to a mumbling Kili, slowly raising her hand to his forehead, until the crown prince suddenly grabbed her by the wrist, eliciting a low gasp. "Why are you _here_? What can you do for him?" He met with her eyes, and there was something that passed between that would suggest Fili was more than just a little cautious of the elf being here.

"I can help him."

"How?"

Tauriel pulled her wrist back. As she went to speak again, Kili's mumbling became a little more coherent. They looked to him, and suddenly he was calling out to not his brother who was seated directly next to him, but the elf he last saw before slipping into darkness.

Fili didn't try to hide the fact he was hurt when his brother, in a more coherent state, called out to a woman he hardly knew instead of him, but neither his brother nor Tauriel could see this. And when they took note of Kili trying to move, without truly giving any thought to it, Tauriel took up his hand and held it within her own. As soon as he felt that warmth of her hand, Kili's fingers tightened around the limb.

Whether it is a sign of intimacy or just someone to cling onto, Fili arched his right brow when watching this, and finally looked on Tauriel with a different light. "Can you really help him?"

"Aye," she answered, hardly lifting her eyes from Kili, who had not yet opened his, and watched him draw in breath, before looking at Fili. "Fili, do you know the Athelas plant?"

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil."

Fili gave her a confused look, and then nodded slightly. "Aye, Kingsfoil, but that's a weed..."

"It is a healing herb first brought to Middle-earth by Númenóreans," Tauriel corrected. "It's very sweet-smelling and may heal Kili of his infection."

The crown prince rose but as he left them, the elf gave him a nod and a description of what this plant looked like, then assured him his brother would be in good hands. Fili walked out with this knowledge and hope restored.

That was, until he saw his uncle is staring at him, and the others lingering back, waiting for some semblance of news. "Uncle," he started, lowering his voice some, "the physician has done everything he can for Kili, but infection has already stated, and his fever is high. Tauriel, the elf, she said – "

All of a sudden, Thorin's expression changed. "What did she say?"

"I have to find a plant called Athelas," he explained. "She – she told me this plant may heal Kili and that she can – "

"_She_ is in there with him?!" He started to move forward until his nephew's hands were on his shoulders, stopping him, and then Thorin was regarding Fili with a heavy stare. "I will not having that… that she-elf anywhere near him."

"If she can save his life, then we owe her everything." Fili dropped his hands. "When I was in there with my brother, and the el- Tauriel, when she came in, he _knew_ she was there. He called out to her. Maybe… maybe we can trust her. He seems to."

Thorin opened his mouth to argue, when he saw that look in his nephew's eyes. He had the right of mind to charge himself into that room and forcibly remove Tauriel from his young nephew's bedside but something inside his chest had settled in that moment, and he finally sighed, then straightened a little. "Oin," he called, his voice a lot softer than what he was just using to speak with his eldest about the elf, "Do you know anything about this so-called healing plant? Can it really do what this elf claims?"

"Aye," Oin stepped off to the side of his brother, ignoring the steely gaze. "Though personally, I have never seen it and don't know much more about it, but elves are powerful healers. They would know more than I."

Thorin shifted his eyes over his shoulder, far from Fili's own, and looked at each of his companions in turn. Some appeared more cautious than others – and he could not ignore the looks from Dwalin and Gloin, who glowered with hidden anger and distrust – but then a few appeared somewhat hopeful and curious as to whether this theory might just save Kili's life. Even Thorin was questioning himself. He wasn't willing to barter with his nephew's life.

But when the king-under-the-mountain was through bouncing his eyes from one dwarf to the other, he looked back to Fili. "Do you trust her?"

"I – " his voice faltered, because he was actually second-guessing himself and he hated when he was put in this position. " – Kili does, and I trust Kili."

"Then… let us find this plant."

**Phew! I know I should have updated already but I had other things to do first, and I was having internet issues for the past few days. But, here is chapter two. I will be working on chapter three soon enough. **

**Read and review! Your reviews will certainly root for Kili's good health! **_Psst, I'll give the next few reviewers some freshly baked cookies!_


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